Moonbound Desires

Rushed footsteps could be heard in the dark, cold, and windy forest of the Westside Silverwood. Without halt, Lady Jane and the remaining few of her disciples ran through the endless, dark, and empty forest, clutching a piece of fabric tightly that her hands became as red as a rose. It was an ambush, one Lady Jane was not prepared for. The Witches of Westside Silverwood were stronger than Lady Jane had expected. Their sorcery was beyond anything anyone had ever seen. Half of the number of Lady Jane’s disciples that had originally left Zathkanan Palace were dead, each one of them brutally murdered while the others escaped with two or more fatal injuries. Lady Jane could not think of anything else, but to run as far away as they could from the Westside Witches. Twelve of them including Lady Jane set out to Westside Silverwood on a quest and only six of them barely survived and were on the run.

It was during the winter. The night was eerily cold, empty, and dark, which was a normal setting of a forest in Silverwood. Once Lady Jane was sure that the witches had stopped following them, she signaled for her people to follow her out of the forest and into Farrow Street. They were now far away from the Westside Witches and Lady Jane let out a sigh of relief.

That night, Farrow Street lights were colorful and amusing. There were people, mortals, going about their lives. As Lady Jane scanned the whole street looking for a place to hide, one of her disciples fell to the floor while the rest rushed to help him.

“What is wrong?” Lady Jane asked, her voice hid the fear that troubled her so well that her disciples trembled upon hearing her voice. Lady Jane was a powerful she-wolf and a trusted advisor of the Alpha of their pack. Fear of her was achieved not only from the Alpha, but from herself also, her composure, her authoritative voice and her charming appearance. She was not someone to be messed with.

The disciple on the floor trembled, “My leg is broken, I cannot move any longer.”

The other disciples looked worriedly at Lady Jane and at the injured disciple. They all knew what Lady Jane’s answer would be, ‘Kill him, we do not want the weak to slow us down,’ but to their surprise, Lady Jane came forward, brought her knees down and placed her hands around his shoulders gently. The other disciples marveled at this gesture. Lady Jane hated physical contact with anyone, her placing her hands over the injured disciple was truly a scene.

“Will it be okay if I carry you?” she asked.

The disciples were filled with another wave of shock. The injured disciple was too scared and confused to speak. Lady Jane’s voice had softened, but her face still remained strict. It was hard to know exactly what she wanted to do. “You are wasting my time,” Lady Jane called, she seemed impatient with the disciple’s silence. Immediately, another disciple stepped out.

“Do not bother Lady Jane, I will carry Josh,” he said.

Without another word, Lady Jane stood up and gave way for the disciple to carry him. As she backed away, her eyes spotted a club across the street. It was noisy and the lights around the building were so bright that it could blind the eye.

“There!”

“Lady Jane, you do know what that place is right?” one of the disciples asked and Lady Jane nodded slightly, “The West Witches hate anything bright, and that building is the only place we will be safe from them, at least until daytime,” she explained.

The disciples agreed and dared not to disagree with Lady Jane. She was Knowledgeable and always right. She was chosen as the Alpha’s advisor because of her wits and composure. Nothing that escaped her lips was ever a lie.

Hurriedly, they entered the club, ignoring the looks thrown on them. Lady Jane asked the bartender for a room to lodge for the night and was told to wait a little while and the manager would get back to them. Lady Jane didn’t care about the six of them staying in one room. They all had to be together, no one had to die again for a small gem. Lady Jane clutched the fabric in her hand, feeling for the presence of what was inside the fabric, the gem she was asked to seek out, the reason the Westside Witches were after them.

“Lady Jane,” a disciple called, “I don’t mean to question your plan for our safety, but the West Witches want the gem back. They would do anything to get it back and I don’t think the lights here will stop them.”

Lady Jane shut him a glare, but not as deadly as how it usually was. The disciple quickly bowed saying ‘I’m sorry’ repetitively until Lady Jane rose her hands to quiet him. They were still waiting silently for the bartender’s response at the counter. No one from their crew said a word, all that blasted into the crowded room and into their ears was the loud music.

The crew watched as mortals danced freely, happily or for some, shamelessly. Lady Jane turned her gaze away from the dance floor and fixed it on the fabric held tightly in her hands. She had to keep it safe, it was a very important mission, a mission assigned to her personally by the Alpha himself. This gem was precious to him. Lady Jane could not accept defeat, not now.

The gem inside the fabric began to act strangely. The aura it emitted was strong and dense. It was almost like the smell of danger mixed with blood and ashes. It wasn’t pleasant or rather wasn’t something the gem was known for emitting. Lady Jane’s eyes were fixed on the fabric, resisting the urge to open it up. It was a package for the Alpha, opening it up would be disrespectful.

“Lady Jane!”

Lady Jane turned to see her disciples looking at her, all with worry etched on their faces.

“What is wrong?”

“You have been staring at the fabric for a long time now, and we’ve called your name several times,” one of the disciples explained.

Lady Jane shook her head. “I did not hear you because of the loud music here,” she said, but the disciples’ faces said otherwise.

“There was no way you did not hear us, Lady Jane.”

“Drop this act now, let us wait for the room to be ready, then we can have some rest,” Lady Jane tried to push the topic away, although she knew deep down that her disciples were right. She was indeed carried away by the gem in the fabric, the aura it emitted was different and absurd.

“Alright,” the disciples replied, trusting that Lady Jane was okay.

She held the fabric tightly as she also tried to erase the aura from her mind. This mission had to be successful, even if it meant her dying. The gem acted strange, but she mustn’t lose guard.

The Bartender approached them and the disciples’ faces were relaxed. “I talked to the manager and he gave out the last room at the end of the corridor above us.”

Lady Jane nodded appreciatively, but as they were about to leave for the stairs, the bartender stood in their way, eyes locked on Lady Jane. Lady Jane looked at him and her eyes widen with realization almost immediately. The bartender’s eyes was filled with emptiness, almost as if he was in a trance, completely different from the Bartender seconds ago.

“Sir, you are blocking our way,” a disciple pointed out, but Lady Jane could tell that the disciple’s voice trembled. It was as if they all noticed the sudden and eerie change. Suddenly Lady Jane noticed something in the bar was off, she and the disciples turned around to see everyone in the bar had stopped dancing, all standing upright, and eyes empty, staring straight at Lady Jane.

“What is happening, Lady Jane? Why are they staring at you?” the disciples asked.

“The gem,” Lady Jane answered.

“Does that mean the West Witches have found us,” Josh asked. The disciples shivered at his words. If it was indeed the West Witches, they will all be killed with ease because their Moon Spirit was low, they were all exhausted from the previous fight and the West Witches had used their magic to seal the moon that night. Lady Jane shook her head.

“It is the gem.” She raised the fabric to show the disciples. “I think we have the wrong gem.”

Just as she said this, she let out a howl and the fabric flew out of her hands. She clutched the hand the fabric was once in. The gem had become red hot and burnt off the fabric, coming in contact with Lady Jane’s skin. The red hot gem was now visible on the tiled floor.

“What is that then?” one of the disciples asked, but Lady Jane shook her head still holding her burnt hand in pain. She knew very well their mission was a failure, she was a failure.

“That is not the gem,” she finally said, “There is something strange about its aura.”

Suddenly, everyone in the bar fell to the ground, eyes still wild open, but their skin now as dry as the bark of a tree. Lady Jane bent down to observe the bartender’s body. It had been drained of blood and his organs were missing.

“What is it? Why are they dead?” one disciple asked.

Lady Jane’s face was not what they needed. She looked so horrified that the disciples almost collapsed. She turned back to look at the glowing red gem, which was now melting and sinking into the titled floor.

“Run!” she called, her voice shaking.

But before they could get to the door, all the disciples fell to the ground, their skins drying up and their eyes wild open. Lady Jane reached out to the door knob as her vision began to double and her eyes and body hurt, her knees could not move any longer and she felt a scotching pain, but could not scream.

‘What in the devil is this sort of sorcery?’ she thought, but she could do nothing anymore. They were played, someone had switched the real gem with this one, fooling both the Westside Witches and Zathkanan pack. That person was indeed too powerful, and it was a pity Lady Jane could not stay around longer to find out who the person was.

"I am so sorry, Ethan", Lady Jane muttered just before she fell to the ground.

It was the man in black again!!!!

Amara woke from her bed, clutching her head as it continued to throb in endless pain. This wasn’t the first time she had seen the man in black in her dreams. Every time she did, he would always be in the darkness and she never saw his face, waking up each time to the most heartbreaking of headaches.

Sluggishly getting up from bed, she took her phone to check the time. Her phone was dead. She hit her head in confusion, but it only worsened the current ache she had. Even worse, her charger was nowhere to be found. Angrily, ignoring her throbbing head, she sprinted out of the room because the missing charger could only be found on one person.

“Sarah! Give it back right now!”

Amara chased her younger sister, Sarah, around the house as they both struggle for Amara’s phone charger. “Mum!” Amara called as she saw that Sarah was not going to give up anytime soon.

“Aren’t you too old to call Mum for help?” Sarah laughed.

“Come on, Sarah, I have to go to the office in thirty minutes and my phone is down, you have all day to charge yours,” Amara explained while stamping her feet, but Sarah laughed.

“Frank will drag the charger away from me as soon as you leave,” Sarah complained.

“Then I will tell him not to,”

“He won’t listen to you,”

“He will,”

“No he won’t”.

Amara sighed seeing that Sarah wasn’t ready to give up the charger, she decided to back out because of the aches, “You and Frank are both in College why can’t you just get a new charger for goodness sake, why bother me,” Amara said throwing a book at Sarah, but Sarah dodged and started to laugh hysterically.

“Eat the charger anyways, I have the money to buy another one, unlike your broke ass,” Amara spat before running back upstairs. She bumped into her mother, Mrs. Morgan on the way. A young looking middle-aged woman with a decent smile, long hair as dark as the night sky, marvellous hazel eyes that was always filled with compassion and a beautiful shape. All these she gave her daughters. Amara clutched her head in pain.

“Sarah stole your phone charger again?” Mrs. Morgan asked, giving her some medicine. Her smile warm and sweet making Amara forget all the stress Sarah had just given her and carved a smile on her face as well.

“It is cold outside, you should not forget your jacket. I don’t want you to catch a cold again,” Mrs. Morgan said as she warmly placed her hands on Amara’s cheeks.

“Yes, Mum, I won’t forget my jacket,” Amara nodded, “Breakfast is ready downstairs. I’ll call Frank out.”

Mrs. Morgan nodded. Her smile always widen every time she hears her daughter mention work. Mrs. Morgan was so proud of Amara’s achievement, not just by being the best Detectives in the whole of Silverwood, but for also earning the title of 'The Beauty of Silverwood'. Not only was she a successful Detective, but also a model and brand influencer, sometimes keeping her detective work secret. Mr. Morgan died when Amara was entering college. Amara was so devastated at the time, but Mrs. Morgan never left her daughter’s side and took every next step with her. Their relationship was strong as that of a glue on paper. Amara completely adored her mother and often spoiled her with gift bags and jewellery.

Amara entered her room to pick up her bag, when suddenly she saw a scene flash before her eyes. It was quick and painful, causing her to grunt out loud and clutch her head in severe pain. If she wasn’t mistaken, what she saw was a place filled with corpses. She shook her head taking it as nothing but hallucinations. Amara took her bag from her room and rushed downstairs to see that her mother, Frank and Sarah were already seated and eating, but they seemed to be talking about something serious.

“What is wrong? You all look like someone died,” Amara asked as she slowly sat with them.

“Because someone did die,” Sarah answered.

Frank gave Sarah a little nudge on her shoulders, “You mean dozens of people died.”

“What do you mean?” Amara asked looking unbothered. No matter the news, she was used to cases like that, “Let me see,” she stretched out her hand across the table and Sarah put her phone in Amara’s stretched hands. She was used to a lot of cases, but this one was indeed unexpected.

Amara’s eyes widen as she saw the number of people that had died. What was even more terrifying was that it was the same scene she had seen minutes ago. Hundreds of bodies lay on the ground inside the famous club on Farrow Street, and also pictures of bodies that lay outside the club. All eyes of the victims were bulging out and their body was completely dry and horrifying. Amara was used to mass murder cases that included draining of blood and organ stealing, but something about this one was different. It made every hair at the back of her head stand that she threw the phone back to Sarah, but it landed on the pudding instead.

“Amara!” Sarah screamed and carefully took her phone out of the pudding.

“So what do you think? Satanic ritual stuff right?” Frank asked.

“You see too many horror movies, Frank, it must be some sort of poison or chemical,” Amara answered.

“Thank God I did not allow you to go for that party,” Mrs. Morgan said, her voice trembling. A lot of the victims from last night were from Frank and Sarah’s College, University of Silverwood. Frank was Sarah’s twin, they were both just entered their final year and Frank was saved last night by not going to Farrow Street to party.

Mrs. Morgan was deeply troubled with the fact that her son would have been among the horrible looking corpses, she began to tear up, but Amara rushed and placed her arms around Mrs. Morgan, “We should be happy that Francophone did not go, not sad, Mum,” Amara said with a reassuring smile.

“You are right,” Mrs. Morgan agreed, while Amara wiped away her mother’s tears.

“Most of the victims are from Silverwood University. I fear that some people we know are part of the bodies there,” Sarah pointed out after she had finish licking the pudding from her phone.

“From now on, no parties for the two of you,” Mrs. Morgan called, but Frank and Sarah nodded immediately. The horrific scene and the terrifying bodies of the victims was already enough to scare them away.

Amara laughed, “Mum, after seeing this, I doubt these two will even want to go out for a stroll.”

“You are restricted from partying too,” Sarah called, but Amara shrugged, “I don’t have time for partying. I have bigger things to attend to,” she said.

“No wonder you don’t have a lover, as old as you are, you obsessed workaholic,” Sarah called.

“I am 25 years old, there is still plenty of time,” Amara replied proudly.

“Time is short, the victims yesterday also thought they also had long lives ahead of them,” Sarah sighed and put a spoon of pudding into her mouth.

“Sarah, let Amara be. She’ll choose a good man that will take good care of her and good care of us, no need to rush her,” Mrs. Morgan spoke and Amara smirked at Sarah’s defeat.

Sarah folded her arms and pouted, “You always defend her,” She mumbled to herself.

“Our resumption was shifted to further notice, it seems like the number of College students last night were too much,” Frank read the messages on his phone out loud with a worry etched on his face, “Let me check on my friends,” He immediately stood up and rushed upstairs, so did Sarah.

“I’ll be off, Mum,” Amara grabbed her bag and stood up from her seat getting ready to leave, but her mother called her back, her face still drenched with worry.

“This case is dangerous and you might be part of the people working on the case. Farrow Street is a few miles from here. Something feels off, I can tell.”

Amara approached her mother, placing her hands tenderly against her mother’s. “I will be fine Mum, even if they give me this case to work on, I cannot turn it down. I will make sure to be extra careful. Remember what I used to say? You cannot act recklessly when you have people that will also face your consequences with you.”

Mrs. Morgan gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead before letting go of her hands. “Good luck then,” she said.

Amara waved her mother goodbye before exiting the house.

Amara lived with her family in Lavender Street, a very peaceful Street Northside of Silverwood. As she came out of the house, the street was awfully quiet at 7am that morning. Amara decided to brush it away, because schools had recently just gone for the Christmas holidays and they were probably still on their beds with their phones. Amara didn’t bother to think about it, so she got into her car and drove off.

Her office was inside the large Organization in Northside Silverwood, an organization known for producing the best detectives in Silverwood.

As she got out of the parking lot, she could see the front of the Organization was parked with journalists and Reporters, all questioning every member of the Agency about last night’s incident in Westside Silverwood.

Amara could walk past them, she had had her experience with both Reporters and Paparazzi, but the crowd in front of the building was awfully noisy and troublesome. Amara did not want to see any of them or to even answer any questions. So she went into the building through the back door.

Immediately she entered the building, Rohan and Samantha, her interns, ran up to her, breathing and panting like fishes desperate for water.

“What is wrong?” Amara asked.

“You haven’t heard?” Rohan looked at Amara as if he could not believe that she just asked what was wrong. They were both used to Amara always being focused on her work, and only her work. She was hardly on social media. It was her Modelling Agency that was in control of her social media events. Amara knew nothing about latest news. She was indeed a hardworking an independent woman, but for her not to hear this particular news was too shocking and made Rohan think she was too much of a workaholic.

“Over three thousand people died in Farrow Street Westside of Silverwood last night,” Samantha explained.

Amara’s eyes widened “Three thousand?” she called and the two nodded.

“And counting,” Samantha added and Amara mouthed the words ‘and counting?’ in total shock.

“I heard and saw photos of the scene, but I did not think it would be that many people,” she said with a tone of disbelief.

“The president seeks your presence, he would like you to be on the case,” Rohan informed.

As expected.